Free Volle by Kyell Gold, Sara Palmer Page B

your Majesty.” Unsure what to do, he bowed again.
    “We have heard news of your coming. We are pleased to see the Vinton seat occupied again. Please feel free to visit us if the Vinton lands have any pressing needs.” Formality prevented the words from being as pleasant as they might have been, but Volle didn’t know whether that was the King’s doing or the fault of the circumstances.
    “Thank you, your Majesty.”
    The King looked down at his trousers and then lowered his paw, turning to look at the raccoon behind Volle. “Hello, Lord Black,” Volle heard him say as the badger led him around the table.
    He was seated about halfway down, closer than all of the junior nobles except the weasel. The next group had been announced and was moving into the room as Volle sat down. The badger pushed his chair in gently, then left to escort another noble to his chair, and Volle could study the room, thankful that his trousers were hidden from view.
    The place settings were silver, or at least looked like it. There were five pieces in front of him: two forks, two spoons, one knife. He also had a goblet that proved to be crystal; he ran his claws over it to check. Very fancy. Of course, he’d never been invited to dinners of state in Caril, so he had no basis for comparison.
    There were, by his quick count, about a hundred place settings at the table. They were filling in rapidly, as each guest entered, paid his or her respects to the royal couple, and were seated. He looked curiously to see whether the herbivores had their own section. At the Academy, they’d been seated at a separate table, because the smell of meat made some of them ill. Here, he noticed deer and goats sitting beside bobcats and wolves. Either it didn’t bother the nobles here, or they had gotten used to it.
    Once the table was about two-third filled, the groups entering became smaller, until the last seven nobles—the most important, Volle presumed—were introduced individually with their wives. “Lord and Lady Quirn.” A pair of bears entered. “Lord and Lady Wallen.” A pair of deer entered, the male turning his head so his antlers would clear the doorway. “Lord and Lady Fardew.” A pair of wolves entered. “Lord and Lady Ullik.” The Exchequer and a plump female squirrel entered.
    He wore a fancy silk shirt that strained across his chest and stomach, and a skirt that didn’t quite conceal the shape of his thigh. His wife was wearing a shorter dress than most of the other ladies, and she had curled her long headfur. It looked rather dreadful, but Volle didn’t see any more, because at that moment the Exchequer glanced in his direction, and Volle looked quickly down at his paws on the table.
    Lord Tistunish had been facing his wife, an ample bitch who was nearly as tall as he was, though her fur was a more standard grey and white. He noticed Volle’s movement and glanced at the Exchequer, but didn’t say anything. The room remained almost totally silent as the nobles walked by and took their seats, all at the head of the table.
    “Lord and Lady Barclaw.” Volle didn’t look up until he was sure the squirrels were in their seats. He saw the backs of two bears as they approached the king.
    “Lord and Lady Villutian.” Two more bears entered.
    “Lord and Lady Alacris.” A third pair of bears entered, and when they had been seated, the murmur of conversation filled the hall. The great wooden doors were swung shut, and four smaller doors at the sides of the room opened. Raccoons bearing small silver platters marched stiffly around the room serving, from the head of the table down.
    “Already had a run-in with Ullik?” Lord Tistunish asked quietly as they waited for their meal to be served.
    Volle nodded. “I have to collect some back taxes.”
    “Back taxes…” The wolf was silent while the raccoon placed a platter in front of him, then in front of Volle. The appetizer was an entire game hen, roasted and steaming, with the head